Tuesday, November 11, 2008

Doubt

by Ari

I haven’t seen John Patrick Shanley’s highly acclaimed play on stage, but his film adaptation of Doubt is one of those cases where all the intriguing ideas and excellent performances never fully come together for a successful whole. The story, which deals with a prickly nun who suspects a priest of a sexual crime, is layered with compelling themes regarding questions of faith, authority and guilt, with subtle tones of racial tension and a level of ambiguity that’s a refreshing change from so many religious films that shove messages down your throat. But even with all these interesting elements, the film never has the dramatic, emotional impact it seems to be aiming for. It’s always on the verge of shaking you, but for whatever reason it never takes that extra step to really do it. It’s not for a lack of trying, it just doesn’t have the same immediacy on film that it might have on stage.

In 1964 a young black student named Donald Muller (Joseph Foster) enrolls in a religious school for the opportunity to better his chances at attending a good college. Obviously there’s a racial divide - in this case he’s the only black student in the school - and as an outsider the only sense of friendship he gets is from Father Flynn (Philip Seymour Hoffman), a priest who believes that spreading good influence and adapting with the changes in society will strengthen the church. Hoffman is brilliant at conveying subtle internal conflict with body language, and in some moments you can feel the weight of his religious anxiety without him uttering a word.

But despite the questions he has in his head, Flynn has a faith and hope that leads him forward. His attempt to adapt with the times naturally clashes with the strict discipline of Sister Aloysius Beauvier (Meryl Streep), the tough principle who immediately assumes Flynn committed a crime when a teacher (Amy Adams) mentions something about a secret meeting between Muller and the priest. Once confronted, Flynn claims innocence and tells her to leave it alone.

Is he abusing his authority because he’s guilty or actually protecting the boy as he says? Is it right to question him on suspicion alone or should Sister Beauvier obey the religious code by which she swears and simply let it go? How do you balance the concept of moral action when you’re dealing with an organization governed by a set of principles connected to a particular religious order? It’s dense and intriguing stuff, and though the film raises the questions and challenges the audience to interpret the events, there’s an emotional distance that keeps a forceful concept from really piercing the viewer.

The slow build-up is effective for a while, but when the story tries to take it up a notch, it feels abrupt and then uneven. The writing falters a bit when the suspense element is thrown into the mix. The actors are pretty much superb across the board and Roger Deakins’ somber, muted lighting creates the appropriate atmosphere (though some of the tilted semi-noir angles felt unnecessary and distracting), but once the film reached its climactic moment I felt disappointed by how little I was affected by it. Noble attempt, troubled finish.